


Biology Lessons

by AnyaElizabeth



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnyaElizabeth/pseuds/AnyaElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry really needs an education.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biology Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Emily, to wickedly distract her from her Biology revision. A little silly. :D

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to stay awake. After his, uh – crisis – with Ginny, Hermione had ordered him to go read up on the facts of life, but this biology text wasn't at all useful – he had no idea why he'd need to know all these _names_ for things.

He adjusted the cloak. He'd really hate it if someone found him in the library after hours, even though he wasn't technically a student any more.

Just at that moment, he heard a noise at the door. He twitched the cloak again, then stood up to see who it was.

A silvery blond head was just visible in the moonlight. _Great_, thought Harry. _Malfoy._

Malfoy didn't seem to be up to anything. Since the war he'd been staying at Hogwarts, along with anyone else who didn't really know where to go. McGonagall had been persuaded to give him some protection; an awful lot of people wanted him to be arrested like his father. Harry thought Malfoy was alright – he'd pretended not to know them at the Manor, and his mother had saved the Wizarding World – but he didn't exactly _like _him. They had an odd truce.

Malfoy paced the aisles for a while, then vanished from Harry's view. He came back a moment later with a massive tome, dumped in on a table alarmingly near to Harry's, and opened it at the first page.

Harry sat down. What was Malfoy _doing_? He would have suspected a dark plot, but Harry couldn't imagine what Malfoy might want to do now.

Maybe he was just reading. Maybe, like Harry, he found it hard to use the library in the day, with all those eyes upon him.

Harry sat down, very quietly, and went back to his book. This was more important than Malfoy. Hermione said that he needed to do some self-reflection, and that research would help, and God knows he needed it. So that was what he was doing.

His eyes wandered away from _The Wizard Body _for the millionth time, and landed upon Malfoy.

He looked tired, hollow. Three or four weeks of peacetime had taken the sickly pallor from his face, the one he'd had since sixth year, but it still looked as though he hadn't slept in a long time. Despite that, Malfoy had changed since Harry had last looked at him properly; his face was more angular than pointed nowadays, bold lines and dark shadows in the light of his lamp, and he had long, elegant hands that flicked over the pages too quickly for him to be really reading. The gold lamp threw flickering splashes of gold into his silver hair and shadowed eyes, making him look warmer, softer, more approachable. He was really quite...

Harry snapped his attention back to his book. He was sure this was _not_ what Hermione had meant. He attempted to read a paragraph on ejaculation that made even _that_ subject deathly dull, but his eyes drifted back to Malfoy. He felt sorry for him, really – he wanted to reach out, brush the escaping strands of hair from his eyes...

Malfoy looked up warily, straight at Harry, and Harry was so startled he dropped his book.

"Who's there?" he snapped. Harry held his breath.

"If it's bloody Potter... _bet_ it's bloody Potter," muttered Malfoy, looking back to his book. "It's always bloody Potter. _Accio_ invisbility cloak_!_"

Harry was too surprised to react in time, but he still scrabbled forward as his cloak went flying in Malfoy's direction.

"Oh, fantastic," said Malfoy, face twisting. "What, are you _spying_ on me? I'm not going to do any fucked-up Dark Minion stuff, you know. Or do you think I'm that insane?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Malfoy," said Harry. "I was just reading."

"At night," said Malfoy scathingly. "_Invisibly_. Can't see why you would, unless you've found some porn or something –"

He reached for the biology textbook. Harry went for it as well, but Malfoy got there first and held it out of Harry's reach.

"_The Wizard Body_," read Malfoy. "What the hell? This is biology."

"Yeah?" said Harry defensively, snatching his cloak back. "No harm in staying educated."

"In the dark?"

"Maybe I learn better at night."

"I frankly have trouble believing you can even read, Potter," drawled Malfoy. He opened the book at the page Harry had stupidly, _stupidly_ turned down.

"'Human Sexual Reproduction'?" he read aloud. "Oh my God, Potter, you're reading about sex? Most people do that in _third year_. Surely you already know all this? Unless diagrams get you hot..."

"Diagrams don't – I've had a busy childhood – of course I already know most of it –"__

Knew, had heard vague rumours about, guessed...

"If you _know_ most of it, then why are you here?"

Harry was aware he was flapping his mouth a little like a fish as he struggled for an explanation.

"Hermione thinks I need... self-reflection," he said. Malfoy gave him a long, strange look.

"What _kind_ of self-reflection?"

Harry shrugged.

"She wasn't very specific. I, er... I had a bit of..."

"A bit of what?"

"Nothing," said Harry vehemently, biting down on his tongue. "Nothing at all. Don't worry. I think I'm going to –"

"Oh, come on, Potter, you can't say something like that and then run away," said Malfoy. "Don't think I won't hex you because you're the Boy-Who-Lived."

"That wouldn't be very good for your reputation," said Harry dryly.

"Not like it can get much worse," said Malfoy. "Nobody believes that I thought the Dark Lord was a sadistic nutter who never should have been born, they all think I'm mourning and plotting resurrection. But don't change the subject – you had a bit of _what?_"

"Nothing," said Harry. "There's nothing wrong, I had no trouble at all –"

"Oh my God," said Malfoy, looking utterly gleeful. "You _can't get it up_?"

"NO!" said Harry. "I mean, yes! I mean – of course I can bloody get it up, I can get it up just _fine_ –"

"Then what?" said Malfoy, through his laughter. "You can't keep it up for your little Weasley – _no_."

Malfoy suddenly straightened up, hand over his mouth.

"Let me get this straight," said Malfoy, with a twitch of his lips. "You're having trouble... in the bedroom... with Girl Weasley... so Granger sent you here for 'self-reflection'?"

"Something like that," said Harry resentfully, who couldn't see where this was going.

"Merlin's bollocks, Potter, you're – well, let's just say you're looking in the wrong section." He gave Harry a contemplative look. "Here. Follow me."

Malfoy picked up his lamp and swept into the stacks, ignoring Harry's stare. Harry watched him blankly. Malfoy was going to show him _sex books_? Harry didn't exactly know where to find them, so he was actually quite glad of a hand, but _Malfoy_?

"Come on, Potter," said Malfoy, looking back with a smirk on his face. "If this helps, you can do me a favour and tell people I'm on their side."

Harry frowned, but at least that was a good explanation for why Malfoy was helping him. He followed Malfoy deep into the bookshelves, staying close to the light, and nearly bumped into him when he stopped abruptly.

He was surprisingly warm.

"Ah, here we go," said Malfoy, taking out a huge chunk of books with titles like _Pulsating Pustules and You_ and dumping them on the floor. He lifted up the lamp and peered at the back of the shelf.

Except it wasn't the back of the shelf. Behind the first row of books there was a second row, and these had much more appetizing titles. There was a naked women on the spine of one particularly thick book, and she winked suggestively at Harry, tossing her long hair.

Malfoy stuck his hand in, and brought out a small paperback. He flicked through it, opened it at a particular page and handed it over.

It was a book of erotic art, glossy prints of classic Wizarding paintings. The page Malfoy gave him had two muscled, golden men in it, completely naked, lying in front of a fireplace. The men were staring out at Harry, an exotic brunette and a golden-blond, and as Harry watched they very deliberately ran their hands over each other's bodies. Harry swallowed, shocked beyond belief – the painting seemed to notice, and entirely misinterpret, because with eyes locked on Harry the blond began kissing down the brunette's chest, tongue tracing a nipple, curling around the man's bellybutton, moving lower and lower until he was –

Harry quickly looked up at Malfoy. It had suddenly got difficult to breathe.

"This is _not_ what Hermione meant!" he protested, and it came out a little squeaky.

"Oh, really," drawled Malfoy, smiling the depraved smile of a filthy corruptor as he leant casually against the bookcases. "Is that why you're flushed?"

He gave Harry an entirely unnerving look up and down. Harry cast a shifty glance back at the painting, but the men looked very involved now, firelight shining off their sweat-drenched skin...

_Shit._

"I'm just – I'm _blushing_ – look, how did you know where to find _this_ anyway?"

"How do you think?" said Malfoy, smirk wicked. Harry stared.

"You're joking – this is all some weird – I _don't like men_!"

Malfoy laughed.

"Oh, Potter, you're funny when you're flustered. It's almost cute."

He prowled closer, and Harry was sure his heart stopped, but Malfoy just came up behind him, peering over his shoulder at the pictures.

"Go on then, Potter," he murmured in his ear. "Look at that picture for five minutes and tell me you're not turned on."

Harry shivered. If he was entirely honest with himself, he didn't _need_ five minutes. The first sight of all that skin, those hands, the blond man's wandering mouth...

God, this was_ bad_. He was supposed to love Ginny! What was he going to do?

He looked down at the picture, swallowing, and Malfoy snorted in his ear.

"You're _so_ into men, Potter. Your jeans aren't leaving much to the imagination."

"Hey!" Harry protested, resisting the absurd urge to cover himself. "It's... possible it's not related..."

"If you ask me," said Malfoy, voice a low purr, "There's only so much good _self-reflection _can do. Without a practical demonstration..."

"Malfoy," said Harry, and it was meant to be a protest, but it came out breathy and desperate and _not at all_ like Harry was feeling, because that would be _insane. _This was Malfoy, bloody Malfoy, and even if he had elegant hands and slim hips and wicked eyes...

Harry turned to push Malfoy away, but it all seemed to go horribly wrong, because now they were there he couldn't move his hands off Malfoy's shoulders. And Malfoy was giving him a dark, daring look, tilting his chin, and Harry wasn't going to _kiss_ him but Malfoy knotted a hand in his shirt and pulled him forward. Then Malfoy's whole body was hot against his, and his erection was pressed against – oh God, it _couldn't_ be – and it seemed unavoidable that he should cover Malfoy's smirking lips. Malfoy was quick and a little vicious, biting Harry's lip and digging his nails into Harry's hips, and Harry realised he was still shoving Malfoy, _hard_, against the bookcase.

Then Malfoy was shoving too, shoving until Harry's back met the sharp spine of a book, pinning him down as he thrust his tongue into Harry's mouth. Then Malfoy tilted his head and bit down on Harry's neck, soothing it with his lips as he tugged Harry's shirt out of his jeans. Harry groaned, unable to think with Malfoy's hips grinding against his, and scrabbled at Malfoy's chest. He struggled with himself, struggled not to succumb to this, but then there were fingers at his zip and a mouth against his earlobe and a sudden, shocking hand sliding down into his boxers.

"Fuck, Malfoy," he gasped, meaning protest, but Malfoy's hands were _good_ and Harry stared though heavy-lidded eyes at the wicked curve of Malfoy's smirk.

"This isn't much of an education if you don't reciprocate," said Malfoy breathily, and Harry couldn't imagine doing something like that – but then Malfoy was catching his wrist, pulling it closer, pressing it against the front of his jeans. Harry rubbed, and Malfoy _groaned_, not smirking any more, and the hot, hard feel of him sent a pulse of – _shock_, it was shock, not pleasure, not power, not desire – except Harry could suddenly see the appeal of wrapping a hand around Malfoy and pumping until Malfoy lost control.

Malfoy slammed his mouth back into Harry's, resuming his rhythm, angle awkward but pressure _perfect_, and Harry fumbled with Malfoy's trouser buttons, biting his lip to keep from moaning. He pushed the trousers away and wrapped a hand around Malfoy, whose hips snapped forward in a desperate, involuntary movement. Harry exhaled sharply against Malfoy's lips, thrusting his own hips, and it felt _incredible_, too good, and he was going to come any minute with that perfect hand wrapped around him and Malfoy's mouth on his and the long, lean heat of the body against him –

Malfoy bucked into Harry's grasping hand, and came between their bodies with a spasm that tipped Harry over the edge. He moaned, all objections forgotten as heat and pressure pulled him over into ecstasy.

They both stayed panting and sticky for a moment, then Malfoy drew his hand away and stumbled back until he was leaning heavily against the opposite bookcase.

"Lesson one," said Malfoy, smirking. He pulled out his wand and muttered something, and the sticky mess covering them vanished.

"_That_'s a useful spell," said Harry. Malfoy stared at him.

"God, Potter, how have you _managed_ without a spell for removing come from things?" he said.

"You see, _this_ is why I was _reading_," said Harry, running a hand through his hair.

"Feel better educated now?"

Harry considered. Then he looked up at Malfoy with a slow grin.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I think I could probably do with a bit more educating. Just to be sure."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Well," he said. "There _is_ a lot to learn."

Harry smirked. Malfoy stood up straight, rolled his shoulders, and pulled up his jeans.

"You might have solved my problem as well," he said thoughtfully.

"What was that?" said Harry.

"Couldn't sleep," he said casually, looking away. "Same time tomorrow?"

Harry grinned.

"Alright."

*  


  
He told Ginny it wasn't working the next morning. She was not very happy, and she was loud enough to let the whole school know.

"Take it you did a lot of thinking, then?" said Hermione, as Harry sat down in the common room with a flop.

Harry thought of Malfoy, and blushed.

"Oh, quite a bit," he said, faux-casual.

He had a feeling he'd be doing a lot more from now on.


End file.
